


Sword of Sondar

by Verdic



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: DNDecember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdic/pseuds/Verdic
Summary: Rumil tells the tale of his sword, and why he never uses it.





	Sword of Sondar

“Rumil, why do you only use your shield as a weapon?” Akmun asked one night around the camp fire. “You do have a sword you know.” 

“Or perhaps he likes to get close and personal with his enemies.” Seraphina joked.

“He is rather blunt.” Moonflower said dryly. No one was sure if he was joking or not. Larkin placed a hand on Rumil’s knee.

“It’s ok. Some people just can’t perform with a blade.” That pulled the most laughter from the group. Rumil merely smiled back at them, enjoying the banter. He had long ago gotten used to being the butt of many of their jokes. They had told him never to be ashamed of himself, but still used him for merriment. He figured it helped bond the party and put up with it. 

“It’s not just a sword. It is a very special one. I can only use it at specific times.” He loosened the sheath from his belt. Placing the sword across his lap, he ran a hand over the worn, but ornate sheath. “This is a holy sword, passed from generation to generation…”

“Aren’t you an orphan?” Moonflower asked. “Doesn’t this type of heirloom come from family members?”

“Normally,” Rumil said, not showing his annoyance at being interupted. “But this one is passed through the generations of holy warriors. I found this sword a year ago, at the final resting place of a paladin. It was deep in a cave. I took shelter there from a large storm. This relic was just sitting there amid a ruin of bones and armor. This was the only thing untouched by the ravages of time.”

“So, that just means it’s magical.” Larkin said. She looked at the others. Had Rumil found the special rum?

“That’s what I thought. When I picked up the sword, I learned of its storied past.” He pulled out the blade. It was a cup hilted long saber. It looked like it was merely ceremonial and blunt. “It was once used by a man whose devotion to his cause led him to lead a regiment of the dead for his emperor. Eventually, it was passed to his spiritual advisor, the only survivor of the regiment. It was then passed down from person to person, through choice or happenstance. All of them have taken the same last name, to keep the legacy of the blade alive.”

“So that’s why someone with no family has a family name.” Seraphina mused. “It seemed odd. It is an odd last name.”

 

“Zwiel was the priest’s name. It is since been passed down through nearly one hundred others. This blade is almost worthless on its own, blunt and fragile. But when one is truly aligned with it.” He flicked the sword, hiding the small rune he pressed. A pale light purple light shimmered around the blade. “It becomes a powerful weapon to destroy evil. It is powered by my faith and strengthened by my resolve. It knows when it is drawn in vain and when it is drawn in sin. It requires penance for any life unjustly taken. It is willing for me to draw it to show you, as it relishes in hearing about itself.”

With a sigh, Rumil sheathed the blade and the light darkened, the air grew a little more chill. “Besides, one of the tenants of my vows is that violence and the shedding of blood is a last resort. I try to take my vows seriously.”

“What else may be included in those vows?” Larkin asked, a look of innocence on her face.

“My vows are my own. You do not need to worry about them.” He smiled back simply. “Now, I will sleep first and take the rest of the watches for the night.” He strapped his sword back on and went to set his bed roll up.


End file.
